


when the other one falls (i will always find you)

by Briereader



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7067272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briereader/pseuds/Briereader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry for your loss, Sergeant Barnes."</p><p>"He shouldn't have even been there. Here. On the train. tracking down Hydra. In the army. Wherever. He was too skinny, too sick. Could hardly take a punch without falling over. Had to run to his rescue half the time, 'fore I went to war. And then he followed. And you and Stark fixed that."</p><p>*</p><p>In which Steve is the one to fall of the train that day, and Bucky become the Winter Soldier by driving a plane into the Arctic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the other one falls (i will always find you)

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the dialogue at the very end is based off the movie, so there's a quick warning here. As it is, I had fun writing this and I hope that you'll enjoy reading it.

 

_Base. Get me a line to the Colonel! I don't care what time it is! This one's waited long enough._

*

For a moment after Bucky falls over the edge of the train, hand barely clinging to a thin piece of metal as they rocket along the ravine, he thinks this is how he is going to die. He stares up at Steve, at captain America, watches as his closest friend shouts desperately for him to hold on, and he can only muster up a single thought.

 _Never thought_ you _would be the one to outlive_ me, _Stevie._

(Make that two thoughts - he also says goodbye.)

But he doesn’t die there.

The train changes direction suddenly and Bucky swings close enough to the gaping hole he fell out of that Steve grabs the arm he isn’t using to prevent a plunge to his death and pulls him up.

He’s safe.

He’s not going to die here today.

They stand facing each other, both panting, adrenaline pouring through their veins, and for the first time since he opened his eyes to see Zola over him Bucky realizes the fire bubbling underneath his skin is gone and he laughs.

Steve stares at him as if he’s crazy and maybe Bucky is (he probably is) by this point but honestly he doesn’t give a shit - he’s (they’re both) alive and he couldn’t care less what anyone else thought of him really. Not now, after what he’s done, what he’s seen.

“Let’s go get this fucker,” he says, and grabs a gun from the fallen Hydra goon, his own rifle having fallen into the ravine - which, not complaining, better it than him.

Steve grins back at him and turns to pick up his shield - honestly, why does he fight with that thing - and then a gunshot sounds and Bucky whirls around to shoot the son-of-a-gun who fired. His own well-aimed shot takes the guy out from the opening by the door he’d managed to breach and Bucky dares to hope that they’ll make it out of this mission unscathed.

They don’t.

It’s the clatter of the shield on the floor of the car that warns him, his fear suddenly rising visceral choking him deep in the hollow of his throat. Bucky turns to see Steve unsteadily crouching far too close to the opening in the side of the train, right hand raised to press on the blood welling from the wound at the junction of neck and left shoulder.

The train lurches again just as the hydra goon (he thought he’d killed him already, goddammit) fires a second time. This bullet lodges in Steve’s right shoulder and knocks him back, and back and back -

The other Commandos find him later, holding Steve’s shield in his left hand, right hand braced on the iron opening, standing and staring out into the ravine into which their Captain fell.

*

_Director Fury? We’ve found something you might be interested in._

*

The higher ups are all in an uproar, afterwards, like chickens that got their heads cut off. Bucky finds himself hating them, almost, because they’re only missing _Captain America_ and apple pie and american ideals and their song  & dance routine and their perfect soldier. Not Steve.

Captain America was only ever extraordinary because he was Stevie, first. (Hell, there wouldn’t be any Captain America if it weren’t for Steve’s birthday being the fourth of July.) But Bucky’s the only one who remembers the kid Steve was before.

The Commandos understand, a little, but they only knew him as Captain Rogers, as their leader, as the person he became. Just because there is more of a truth in something doesn’t make it complete.

And so Bucky finds himself mourning by himself, sitting in the rubble of a burned-out building and drinking his way through a crate of piss-poor whiskey, farewelling the skinny, scrappy kid from Brooklyn and - why the hell can’t he seem to get drunk?

“I’m sorry for your loss, Sergeant Barnes.” He whirls to see Carter looking down on him, appearing far more composed than he figured she had any right to be if Bucky had read her and Steve’s interactions correctly.

“He shouldn’t have even been there. Here. On the train. Tracking down Hydra. In the army. Wherever.” Bucky gulps down another draught of whiskey and growls when he still. Feels. Fucking. Nothing. It probably means something significant, but he’s too busy being pissed off at the world to bother being concerned with something else however likely it was to evolve into a fucking migraine later. “Too skinny, too sick. Could hardly take a punch without falling over. Had to run to his rescue half the time, ‘fore I went to war. And then he followed. And you and Stark fixed that.”

He glares at her, challenging her to defend herself, but she says nothing and just reaches out for a glass of her own. He pours her one and she takes a sip, grimacing at the taste. Then she looks at him full-on for once and he’s shocked by the pain in her eyes, after all.

“I know. But it was the only way.” And Bucky can’t refute that, he supposes. Probably would be dead by now, or still a guinea pig for Zola’s sick experiments, if it weren’t for Steve saving him. He sighs and nods, conceding the point. Besides, Steve volunteered for this mess. All he can do is push on, and finish what they started. Fucking Hydra.

Carter takes a larger gulp of the drink, smiling bitterly. Then she eyes the empty bottles around him skeptically. “How are you still standing?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Agent,” he says, flashing her a shadow of the smile he once used to great effect on the dames he took out. It seems to work far less effectively on her. Bucky doesn’t mind - Carter would always be more Steve’s dame in his own mind. He only means it as more of a distraction, really. He has a few guesses about the drinking thing, and none of them mean anything good.

She nods slightly, eyes calculating. Dammit. But whatever she’s thinking she decides to keep to herself. “Is it alright if I join you?”

He considers telling her no, that he wants to be alone, but he’s never really been one to deny a pretty dame what she wants, Steve’s girl or no. And she was Steve’s girl, he sees now, and she deserves a chance to grieve just as much.

“Pull up a chair,” he says with a laugh meant to be easy and free but that only ends up mocking, gesturing with his hand to indicate the rubble around them. She acquiesces with brisk British efficiency, and then raises her glass, invitation contained in the arch of her eyebrow.

“To Steve,” she says, “and to being the ones left alive.”

“To Steve,” Bucky echoes, and together they salute the night.

*

_My God, he’s still alive!_

*

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Barnes, but without Captain Rogers -” Phillips wants to shut the Howling Commandos down now that their leader is. Well. But Bucky won’t (can’t) let him.

“With all due respect sir, we’re more than our leader.” And it hurts to say the words but they’re _true_ and if he had been the one to fall Steve would have done the same thing.

Phillips studies him with pursed lips and a calculating expression - he’s seeing far too many of those, lately - then nods briskly. “You have a month, Barnes. Impress me.”

And just like that Bucky becomes the leader.

He only hopes he doesn’t fuck this up.

*

_Coulson’s having a field day._

_Isn’t that a bit creepy, sir?_ _  
_

_Ah, let the man be. It’s a hell of a thing to be excited about, after all._

*

Much to his surprise, Bucky doesn’t fuck up. The team’s strengthened by their loss, propelled forward by anger, ready to beat Hydra’s ass. Base after base falls to them and they make up the loss of whatever finesse came with Steve’s dumbass but brilliant plans with their own sheer daring and goddamn stubbornness.

Plus, Bucky gets a crash course in strategy from Carter, Stark, and the rest of the Howlies. That helps a little.

Speaking of the two tag-alongs to their little groups:

He doesn’t like Stark all that much - Howard’s too brash, too forward with the ladies (and yes, Bucky gets the irony), too flashy with his wealth. And okay, maybe a different year, a different situation, and he’d have like Stark a whole lot more for those same qualities. But Bucky still blames the other man for what happened to Steve, a little, and Stark’s levity has no real place in a war.

Carter - well, he can see why Steve likes (liked) her. Hell, he likes her too, and it ain’t just the basic admiration she draw from just about goddamn everyone. She’s tough and knows what the hell to do or just how to bullshit it if she doesn’t. (He laughed for days when she told him about the day Steve got that stupid shield.)

He has to spend more time with the both of them now than he did when he was just a Howlie. ‘Cause he’s leader now, and needs their help to keep his ass out of trouble. Hell. How did Steve do it?

What the hell is he doing here, anyways? He’s a draftee for chrissake, only someone big ‘cause he’s a good enough (he’s a brilliant) shot and knew Steve.

Bucky sighs and takes another drag of his cigarette, lets the familiar motion soothe him, even if he don’t feel the rush anymore.

God, he misses Steve.

*

_Coulson, you supervise the thawing._

_I’ll be glad to, sir._

_And Hill? Get me Stark on the line._

*

“Barnes! I need to talk to you.” Bucky gave Stark an exasperated look, one arm slung around Dum Dum’s shoulders to help him stand after Dugan went and got himself concussed.

It’s a rough mission they’ve just finished - the intel was wrong and the plan he and the others had come up with went wrong quick. Only a few last minute adjustments in the heat of the moment by Bucky had ensured any of them stayed up alive long enough to come up with a new plan of attack. But they did survive, are walking into camp now, wounded but alive, and that counts for something.

It counts for a lot of something, really.

“Can’t it wait, Stark?” He has to debrief command still, go over every single variable to figure out where things went SNAFU, and then make sure his men were all getting treated. As someone who’s attempted to avoid medical himself, he doesn’t delude himself in regards to the others. Unless there’s a pretty nurse involved, in which case -

Shit, he’s getting off track. Point is, he doesn’t have time to talk with Stark right now.

“Sergeant.” Carter jerks her head to summon him over and Bucky sighs. Stark he could ignore, but Peggy Carter? He didn’t want to get his ass kicked anytime soon, by Hydra or Carter.

He signals Falsworth to take over the group and hands Dum Dum (who is now singing deliriously under his breath) over to Gabe, who stumbles slightly under the weight.

“Jesus, Dum, lay off on the extra rations, will yah?” Jones mutters, then shifts the weight and moves forward. “Right, I got him, Sarge.”

“Thanks, Gabe.” Bucky sighs and moves over to Stark, rolling his shoulders over a bit. Dum Dum hadn’t been heavy but he’d dislocated his shoulder earlier and the weight could’ve cause some problems. But everything seems to be in perfect order.

“What is it?” His voice is harsher than he intended, and he winces a little. Their work burning Hydra to the ground is tiring everyone - that’s no reason to snap at them.

Stark glances around. “Not here.”

Carter leads them into an empty tent and Bucky follows, curious in spite of himself. Stark didn’t usually care who was listening in, from his experience working with the man. Maybe -

“What exactly happened in Austria, Barnes?”

Okay, he was not expecting that. “We were put to work, never told what for. I took sick, Zola got me. Why?”

“Zola said some things, we noticed others. You’re very lucky you aren’t dead, Barnes.” Carter frowns, looks him over, then glances over at Stark. “He’s certainly healing faster than he should.”

The other man nods. “Plus some of Roger’s older observations, add what we’ve noticed-”

“What the hell are the two of you talking about?” Bucky asks, pissed off.

“We think Zola managed to give you a version of the serum.” Carter says as Stark draws out a blood kit from his pocket - who in their right mind carries a freaking blood kit in their pocket is there even any room in there - and gets it set up. “You’ve been healing faster than normal, your metabolism seems to have increased, and you also appear stronger than normal. Smarter, too. You’ve got an unusually fast learning curve, Barnes.”

“Thanks,” he says, still processing. He has the serum. “Well, fuck.”

“Language,” chides Carter, but she nods agreement. “Howard will run what tests he can under the radar. We’re going to try and keep this low key.”

“Why are you keeping it a secret?” Bucky gives her a challenging look. He appreciates the thought - would rather no one else know about this - but she has to have a motive.

“I know what Steve went through, before he managed to form the Commandos. If some people knew you had the serum you wouldn’t escape, Barnes. Besides, what better place for a super-soldier than in the fight against Hydra? Something tells me we’ll need you before all this is over.”

*

 _Hang on, you’re asking me to build a_ _what_ _for_ _who_ _?_

_You heard me the first time, Stark. You in?_

_Fine, fine. Yeah. Of course. God, my old man would have… Damn._

*

“There are rumors floating around, you know,” Morita says one night in the dead cold, huddled around the meager campfire. Mid-February and even hell must be freezing over.

Bucky gives the other man a skeptical look, lighting a cigarette to keep his hands busy. He’s not as cold as the other men - probably due to the fucking serum - so he’s on watch right now. Probably not going to see any action, though. Fucking Nazi’s are probably hibernating, they’re not fucking insane.

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow when no explanation is given. Dernier mutters something to Gabe, who laughs under his breath. Morita shrugs.

“People are saying you’re the new Captain. You know, taking over the role.” Bucky bursts out laughing, trying to keep the sound muffled. The alternative was screaming and punching a tree, so - priorities.

“Naw, I’m no Captain America.” He shrugs, nearly spits the last two words. Tries not to let the pain show on his face. “I’m just a soldier, is all.”

The others look around each other, sharing glances he doesn't care to decipher. The words travel around camp, morphing as they go - ‘says he’s just a soldier’ ‘but he’s a hero’ ‘like Cap’ ‘yeah’ - and Bucky ignores them, marches forward through the cold that begins to settle in his bones and stay there. Carter pulls him aside one day, smirks at him.

“They’ve started calling you the Winter Soldier, Barnes.”

He shrugs. Let them have their heroes. He doesn’t care anymore. “Damn sight better than Captain America. Now - the last base. I have an idea…”

*

_The thing you asked for, Fury - it’s done. And it’s a masterpiece, if I do say so myself. And I do, so it must be impressive because I’m always right. Just ask Pepper. Actually, don’t ask Pepper, she’ll -_

_Good. Just in time, too. They say he’s about to wake up._

*

 **“** There's not gonna be a safe landing, but I can try and force it down.”

“Sergeant Barnes, don’t -”

“Hey, Agent Carter, am I ever going to get that dance I asked you for?”

 **“** Why not? A week next Saturday at The Stork Club. Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?”

“Come now Carter, I ain’t never stood up a dame in my life, and I’m not gonna start now.”

“You sure have a high opinion of yourself, Sergeant-”

The radio cuts off as he hits the ice and the water closes over the top of the Valkyrie. Bucky takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, feels the cold move out from his bones and surround him. The wound in his shoulder where Schmidt had shot him chills, numbs. He’ll see Steve again soon.

*

_Sir? He’s waking up._

_Alright, set up the stage._

*

When Bucky wakes up, there’s a woman dressed all wrong in his room and the radio’s playing an old game. He went to it with Steve, he knows how it ends.

“Where am I?” When he moves his left arm it feels weird. Light. He glances down and it’s gone, severed at the shoulder. Looks like Schmidt had taken a piece of him with him. The bastard.

The girl gives the wrong answer and he considers flirting with her, playing along, but he’s tired and doesn’t really care for games right now. He bursts out the door and makes his way through the hallways. He’ll have to figure out where he is, who has him, make his way back to base and regroup with the others. Without an arm he’ll probably get sent home but the intel could still help them.

Man, Carter’s gonna have his sorry ass -

The hell?

This has to be Times Square but it’s too loud, too bright. Strange, futuristic cars whiz by him and he’s encircled by black vans before he can blink twice.

“At ease, soldier! Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

“Break what?”

  
“You've been asleep, Barnes. For almost 70 years.”

*

_Where are we going, Buck?_

_The future._

 


End file.
